There were no people standing
around the body; only flies.
With a trash bag as a pillow
she had been found sleeping in the cold.
Her hands and feet wrapped
with considerable duck tape;
the gag in her mouth had been
secured with a tie of her own hair
and the marks on her neck appeared
to have a stranglehold on love.
And without anyone to claim her
she would become just another Jane Doe
with an asterisk*
2008 © T Sheridan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem